


Cat of the canals

by ARMEN15



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: #TrickOrJaq2019, Cats, F/M, Faceless Arya, Halloween, Teacher-Student Relationship, The Faceless Men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 13:53:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21254426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ARMEN15/pseuds/ARMEN15
Summary: The second work in the challenge made by ewinofthelakePlease, don't let black cats go out tonight, and take care of all your pets, too many people are bad with animals who do not deserve to be wounded, scared, injuried, starved, kicked, killed.#TrickOrJaq2019English is not my mother tongue and I'm searching for a beta....





	Cat of the canals

CAT OF THE CANALS

"It went that way, bring the sack."

"Hurry up, it's running fast. "

"I’m coming, damn beast, wait until I got it ..."

The cat escapes desperately, running along the walls, mad, chased by three men who shout to frighten her: she’s trying to find the gate from which she has passed through earlier but she no longer remembers where it is, orientation lost due to fear.

It has happened too suddenly. After the evening surveillance, lying on a dark terrace hidden from the sight of passers-by, she changes into the cat of the canals to return to the lodging.  
Everything is going well, nobody pays attention to a small cat-girl that passes along deserted alleys late in the evening.

Her soft feet allow her to avoid noises, she proceeds quietly, without answering the call of two red male cats, one in search of company – she is female, her scent is strong - and the other who needs help to hunt mices.

She is tired and just wants to get under her window, jump into the room and transform again to sleep until dawn; the new day will bring the smell of bread from the oven and fresh milk from the barn.

Three men sat at a table outside a tavern, under the light of oil lamps; they notice her.

She hears them talking and then they get up, grabbing a club and a sack and moving quickly towards her.

Her instinct understands the danger and she squirts away, but in a hurry she fails to jump over the wall that overlooks the abandoned garden, a safe place she has noticed the day before.

When she realizes the mistake she gets scared, what drives those men to follow her, what do they want from her? It has never happened to her disguised as a cat to be the object of such human wickedness and she is sure their intentions are not pleasant.

Turning the corner of the market street, a foreign place she don’t like because the smells of the products offered for sale every morning are strong and confuse a cat’s mind, she finds herself in the central square and understands.  
All four sides are filled with orange candles and lights, carved pumpkins hang from hooks on the walls and decorate the tables of the taverns and the windows of the houses.

It is the Eve of the feast of all devotees of the Gods that passed away, so people celebrate, children go from door to door with baskets asking for sweets , to avoid the tricks that the Gods will made through them to those who are not generous.  
In the kitchen recipes are prepared with pumpkin pulp and biscuits in shape of bones are baked.

During this night, perverse people sacrifice black cats to propitiate the Gods.

And she disguised in a cat, a black one with green eyes.

She suddenly stops, her bristly hair, her ruffled tail to appear three times bigger than normal; she lets out a meow that is a desperate hiss, she hears behind the footsteps of the pursuers, all around there are too many people and she is afraid.

She has committed a serious carelessness that can cost her life. Alone in a situation of extreme danger, she does not know how to get out of it, fear makes impossible for her to revert full in human form.

The cat thinks about her master: if those men grab her Jaquen won't even find her poor little body; the idea of not seeing him anymore is too much for the heart of a desperate cat. She doesn’t want to be killed for a sadistic ritual, absurd and cruel, she has to do something, find a way to escape.

There is a small window with bars in a wall, at ground level, a basement or a storeroom, it is a narrow passage, the men cannot enter and maybe she can calm down there, transform herself and wait for the dawn in peace..

Cautiously she moves in that direction and kneel to pass under a table, taking care not to graze any leg and not to let even a little air move.

She is very close to her target and ready to jump when a hand takes her by the scruff of the neck, blocking her movements. She tries to scratch the hand but it's useless, the grip is strong and secure, she almost can't breathe so much the skin between her shoulder blades is tense.

She is lifted and brought up to face level, she doesn’t want to look into the eyes of her killer but at the same time her very sensitive nose perceives a slight scent of ginger and cloves, her eyes so sensible to the low light see red hair with a white strand, her receptive ears recognize the unmistakable voice.

"Lovely kitten, you went far tonight. Let's go home."  
She is safe. 

An arm supports her back and Arya is wrapped in a man's cloak, giving him a concert of purrs, rubbing her face on her master's clothes as only a cat can do.

The beat of the human heart reassures the feline one, soon she can be herself again, meanwhile she enjoys this contact with Jaquen, she smells him, passes over Jaquen's chest with her glands to mark him as her human, her exclusive property.

When she is a cat he is her male, in animal guise she can do something forbidden to an apprentice of the faceless, she is allowed to have desires. Cats are very exigent, cats know what they want.

The words of Jaquen are sweet, one of his hands hold her, the other one caresses her shoulder.

The black head follows the hand, search for it, a beautiful occasion to grab, her teacher is once again present at the right time.

Now the cat recognizes the streets, the surroundings of their lodging, her escape route has indeed led her too far to return alone, but Jaquen has followed, in his mysterious way; an animal instinct inside him, too.  
They walk for a while under some vaults, laughs and shouts from a building hastens their pace, the grip on the cat's body becomes stronger, for safety.

"Calm down, kitty, we have to be careful. I understand what they want from you, of every night you had to choose this to be black? Couldn't you have changed in whatever anonymous tabby cat? "

She wants to reply but it's not yet possible, she can only stare at him with her two green pools and purrs. Later, when they’ll be safe, sitting at the table with food - because the cat is very hungry now - she’ll explain him the wild beauty of black cats.

The merchants' palace is very close to their accommodation, a short distance, the door is already visible when the three men arrive by surprise from the crossing nearby

Jaquen stops, instinctively closing his cloak more to protect Arya; the man have followed him, knowing he has the cat.

"Give us the cat and we won't hurt you.” The one with the sword orders.

"This cat is mine."

The taller man, who holds a club, laughs to tease him.

"A tender heart, he says the cat is his." The other two make grins and grimaces. "It’s an useless wanderer, black cats are paid very well tonight, what do you offer in return?"

On a mission, in the guise of a humble sailor whose ship just reached the harbour, Jaquen has no coins for an exchange.

Two swords and a thick club against his short sword are not the best situation, a man knows he can't let  
Arya fall because the trio can split, two against him and one searching for her.

It is not easy for a man to defend himself using his weaker arm; Arya is agitated, she shakes and runs her sharp nails into his flesh, trying like crazy to break free.

Jaquen grits his teeth in pain and hits an assailant on the head, stunning him without preventing a beating on his neck and jaw.

Arya falls and after a moment crouched on the ground she shoots away towards a dark corner, her eyes can perceive the slightest light.

The blow is violent and Jaquen’s right arm feels numb, unable to avoid the blade of the fatter man that causes him a wound in his chest; only his speed in moving sideways avoids more dramatic consequences.

Jaquen raises his sword again and stands in position, feeling the wetness of blood soak his shirt.

Things aren’t going well, his opponents are strong and skilled, the third will stand up soon and this poses a new menace.

The fighters exchange gazes for a few moments before the final assault. The faceless man knows that they will not let him go, he let the cat run away and it is too late to find another for the sacrifice.

And who knows where Arya has gone, there may be others looking for black cats, he must protect her, she can't protect herself.

The man who stunned has recovered and pounces on him branding a dagger; Jaquen blocks him but the other two begin to bypass Jaquen who tries to change position to have his shoulders covered, backing away in search of the wall of a building.

The pain in his ribs is intense, Jaquen clench his teeth to become estranged from it and from the thought of Arya, to devote himself only to fighting.

His chances are poor, he knows, it's not fear for himself, more the idea of not being able to see his lovely girl anymore.  
Arya.  
Not being able to train with her again, to sit at the common table, to travel together, even to simply look at her and accept that his life now includes Arya Stark.

All for a useless ritual sacrifice that the Gods do not require but the stupidity of too many people keep alive. His God does not ask to celebrate a similar feast, Braavos is silent while in this town there are sounds and songs and groups of people walking along the streets.

Oh Arya - he prepares to parry the attack - forgive me, I wasn’t a good teacher this time.

Before the double assault two stones are thrown against his head; he dodges them and raises his sword when the man with the club stops in front of him, his face contracted in a grimace, before falling to the ground with a dagger stuck deep into his back.

Jaquen looks up for a second and sees a quick small shadow move behind his attackers.  
Arya.

Strength is back in his body and hope in his heart, too. A direct blow to hit the other man with the sword, piercing his chest, while the remaining one – seeing his comrades dead on the street – runs away. Jaquen hides the bodies swiftly behind a wood pile, and Arya leaves the dark spot with a satisfied smile; the cat ate the canary.

“Are you well, lovely girl?” 

Arya moves close to hug him and the contact with the wound makes Jaquen hiss; she opens his shirt and sees the blood.

“Have they hurt you?"

He nods, the front of his clothes is a mess, she touches his chin and there is blood form his nose; Arya gets worried and supports him. 

“You risked for me”

“A man would do this and more for his lovely cat.” 

“Let’s go, I want to check you.”

Inside the house they share, Arya obliges him to lie on the bed and removes his cloak and shirt. 

The nose has stopped bleeding but she soaks a compress in cold water and places it over his face, to ease the swollen jaw; the bruise on the neck starts getting purple.

The clotted blood has made a crust over the wound, spurts has formed red patterns on the chest, together with the scratches of the cat

Arya cleans his skin with a rug, soaking it into a bowl of warm water, the liquid becomes pink. 

Jaquen stares at her, the delicate touch is pleasant, he likes when her fingers are in contact with his body. 

“A girl ventured a lot tonight.”

“I know, I forgot the day. Black. The wrong colour for a cat.” 

“A cat can assert herself, always.” 

“My master can assert, too. Stay still. The wound is not bad, the blade hit the ribs, not the lungs. Bleeding has stopped.” 

Arya puts a tight bandage around Jaquen’s chest, her fingers are fast and light, she takes from the travel bag a small jar full of a greasy fluid and applies it on the jaw; it smells, he don’t care.

“Who taught a girl the art of healing?”  
“I’ve observed you and the others faceless a lot in the House. And the waif gave me some remedies when we left for this mission.”

Satisfied of her work, she sits on the edge of the bed; their shoulders touché.

“A man was afraid to be defeated and never see you again. “

“A man protected his cat, who wants to thank him. I go to the kitchen.”

She leaves and Jaquen stares at his bandage, the worries that have plagued him are lessening their hold on his heart, except one, the worst, the pain at the idea to loose Arya. 

After the strain of the fight, he is understanding how much his life has changed since he met Arya for the first time.

How much his life is bound to her life. The importance of her presence, the complications and the need to keep her close.

She is back with a tray, two plates with bread and fruits and a jar of wine; he smiles and accepts a cup. 

Arya drinks from hers and the wine gives colour to her pale face; Jaquen looks at her, admiring the beauty and inner strength that makes Arya special and dear to his heart. 

“A man don’t want to loose you, not because of a stupid celebration nor for a mission gone wrong. Promise a man to be always more than careful in your work. “

Arya returns the smile, nodding.

“I don’t want to loose you, too.”

Jaquen closes his eyes, his world has changed with that simply declaration. 

He thanks the Gods and the superstition about black cats for helping him to admit the truth, then he pats the vacant spot beside him .

“A cat wants to share a bed with a man tonight? A man is wounded and his movements are limited but he can hold her in his arms.”

“A man don’t fear to be scratched and bitten again? “

“No, because his cat is domestic, isn’t she?” 

“Very domestic.“

“Maybe tomorrow a man can pet his lovely cat in a different way, for now his wounds limit him.” 

Arya blows over the oil lamp and leans on her right side under the covers, her head on Jaquen’s shoulder, careful not to touch his jaw.

Their bodies relax after the chase and the fight, a new sensation of peace; Jaquen sighs and his grip on her frame tightens. 

Her face moves forward, searching for his lips, giving him time to move away; he’s still, with a brief contact she kisses him lightly.  
“Tomorrow you’ll be too tired to continue the surveillance. I’ll take care of you.” 

He’s silent, afraid to admit how much he likes the prospect of a whole day of rest with Arya. 

While he is dozing off, a man is sure to hear a cat’s purr.


End file.
